I have spent the last three days watching Masterpiece Classics on Netflix.
WHO AM I? I just don’t know anymore.
It’s taking up way more of my brain capacity worrying about these fictional problems that my real life problems are concerning me.
I lay in bed and wonder why Mr. Darcy was so mean to Lizzy at first. Why is his demeanor so horrible the first three episodes? And how could Lydia be so stupid?
And what of Willaby? How could he get away with treating Maryann in that way? How did he not get sent to prison for what he did to that other girl?
Also, the hair of that time period… oh my God, somebody get those girls some mousse. It’s not okay. Life tip: the lack of volume makes your head look so weird. But hey, mad props for hooking the men looking like a chicken with two tufts of hair sticking up in the back.
Side note: I wonder, how on earth do people fall in love and get married in such a short amount of time? Like, yes, I understand it’s fiction, but it has to be based on some truth of the time period. It’s just that, they never get to have second in private before their engagement. How do you know if you could truly enjoy a future spouse’s presence if you constantly have a buffer in the room every time that there is an awkward silence? And then if you do get engaged, you can’t just break it off because your reputation would be ruined. Times is hard for a Jane Austen character.
Do you see what I mean, though? I have legitimate concerns about films that were made more than 20 years ago, based on literature written over 200 years ago. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep and definitely forget about my hair, I think that it will most certainly be a dreadlocks when I take it out of this bun (but at least I’m fitting in with the show). I need to find a new hobby.